


I knew fall was never coming

by fictorium



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015), The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Femslash, Past Relationship(s), Patron Request, Pining, Pre-Relationship, commission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 14:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12937005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: Cat Grant has mentors of her own. The President is handy, sure, but before Olivia there was Diane.





	I knew fall was never coming

**Author's Note:**

> A commissioned request now being posted! Hope you enjoy!

“Diane? There’s a woman here without an appointment, but she insists you’ll see her.”

“I told you no interruptions until we get a ruling from the judge.”

“It’s me,” Cat Grant announces with a long-suffering sigh, breezing past Marissa to take aa seat in front of Diane’s desk with all the attendant drama. A five-thousand dollar purse is carelessly dropped, a Prada coat is slung over the unoccupied chair, and without waiting for invitation, a brand-new pair of Manolos are kicked off so Cat can tuck one leg under her. “I know, it’s good to see me.”

“Leave us, Marissa.”

“In fact, come back with a latte,” Cat amends, raising one finger to stall the girl’s exit. “Extra foam, scalding hot.”

“Um, I actually don’t-”

Diane silences her with a glare. If she’s going to make exceptions for Cat Grant, so can everyone else. 

“Cat, you know as well as I do that assistants are gatekeepers for a reason. I have a case in front of the most godawful pedant of a judge, and frankly it’s the crappy icing on a long and crappy year. So, with all the love I can summon right now, what exactly can I do for you?”

Cat leans forward, her statement jewelry dwarfed only by Diane’s own, but they’re complementary in their reddish tones. “I should have thought that much was obvious, Diane. I need a lawyer.”

Dropping her reading glasses on the desk, Diane leans back in her chair and folds her hands over her Issey Miyake blazer. “Last I read, you had almost an entire firm of them at your disposal. You didn’t give your Midwest business to Lockhart Gardner, so you’ll forgive me if I don’t jump to attention now.”

“I didn’t accept your firm’s bid because they changed their managing partners every six months for four years,” Cat counters, glancing over her shoulder to see Marissa returning with a cup of coffee as ordered. Cat’s smile is brief but almost vulpine; she’s always been happiest when getting what she wants. “Not to mention the fact that you were supposed to be switching to the bench, then retiring.”

“Well, CatCo certainly reported on that change of plans.”

The shrug isn’t indifferent, merely resigned. Cat leans forward, placing her hand on Diane’s own. “You know I can’t do favors when it comes to the truth. The day I tie my reporters’ hands, I’m just as bad as Murdoch and all those other bastards. And I never want to end up there.”

“You never could,” Diane assures her, gesturing for Marissa to bring the coffee in. For once she isn’t just pushing her way into the office, so Cat must have made an impression. “I taught you far too well for that. How is your mother, by the way?”

“I’m sure you know better than I do. Just a shame she wasn’t caught up in your knockoff-Madoff situation, but then she’d only expect me to bail her out. Anyway, if you really can’t spare the time for your favorite mentee, then I’ll take a name for someone you trust.”

“An area of law might help,” Diane pushes back, just as she always has to with Cat. “This isn’t some network drama where every attorney dabbles in something different every week. Be specific, Catherine. Isn’t that what your father would say?”

There’s no missing the familiar twist of grief to Cat’s features, though she controls it almost instantly these days. 

“Well, constitutional for a start. Couldn’t hurt to be _au fait_ with finance and tax laws. Throw in corporate, and I’ll try not to marry or divorce anyone else for at least a year. Sound fair?”

“That you would invoke all four divorces that I’ve handled suggests you’re really not looking anywhere else. What are you up to?”

“Some minor recalibration. I need someone I trust. Who better than my father’s star pupil? The woman who gave me the blessing I needed to pursue journalism instead of the law?”

“You don’t need to lay it on so thick.” Diane’s phone pings, a message from Lucca. The judge has extended recess until the following morning. _Bastard._ “But since I find myself free, why don’t you tell me the real story over a drink?”

“My car’s outside,” Cat agrees, gathering her things and downing what’s left of the latte. “Since I’ll probably forget later… thank you, and whatever.”

“It’s your grace that really sells it,” Diane says.

***

“Who the hell are they letting make martinis in here?” Cat asked after downing her first. “I’ve had smart water with more of a kick.”

Diane opts to sip at hers, still wary that there’ll be someone in the room watching, looking for a sign of distress. She’s gotten good at stoic and unflappable. Which is why Cat’s arrival bothers her so much. When presented with Cat, Diane is rarely either of those things. 

“What are you up to, _Catherine_?”

“Well, not to torture a metaphor past the point of all reason, but it’s what I’ve been calling _diving_ for the past year.”

“This has something to do with the postcard from Bhutan? Because that’s not exactly a scuba destination.”

“Most people assumed I was looking to expand CatCo to an untouched market. Like I don’t have minions for that kind of thing.”

“What were you doing?” Diane gives a subtle wave to the bartender, and two fresh martinis are on their way. She might complain, but Cat has still drained her glass. “And does this have anything to do with that girl?”

“Girl?” Oh, that’s not convincing at all. Diane wouldn’t put Cat on the stand with a performance like that. “I need a lawyer because I’m leaving CatCo. I’m stepping down for good this time. New challenges await.”

“Is this some kind of elaborate prank?” Diane can hear the irritation in her tone. She’s become careless with letting it creep in lately. Since Alicia. Since the financial ruin. “Because I will believe many things, but you staying away from CatCo? Ha!”

The second martini is mixed better, and Diane makes short work of it while Cat stirs hers with the olives on their stick. 

“It turns out that I… well, I serve at the pleasure of the President. You did plenty of fundraising for Olivia, you can see the appeal.”

“You’ve been your own boss for twenty years, you’re going to join the rank and file? Tell me it’s at least a Cabinet position.”

“Press Secretary,” Cat corrects, waving her finger. “They need the help. They’re about as media savvy as Trump Tower is tasteful.”

“Harsh,” Diane says, considering steak for dinner. When’s the last time she did more than pick at a disappointing salad? “But fair. So you have to… what? Divest? Blind trust, the usual routine?”

“It’s the ethical thing to do…”

“And there are less than ethical alternatives. Including keeping it all. It’s a brave new world, remember? The Republicans decided anything goes as long as you’re in the right party. What’s a little fraud, or a massive conflict of interest at the heart of government, right?”

“Well, so long as we’re not bitter about it.” Cat smiles. “You know I can’t turn this down. You know this is what dad really wanted for me. Public service.”

“You haven’t served the public by telling them the truth for two decades? Even when it would have been more profitable not to?”

“I suppose I have been fabulous.” That head tilt, the mock consideration of her accomplishments. In so many ways Cat hasn’t changed, but Diane knows just where to look for the cracks that rarely show. “But it turns out that even I serve at the pleasure of the President.”

“She didn’t wait for you, did she?” 

Cat flags the bartender down this time, switches their order to 60-year-old shots of Scotch. One to sip, not throw back. 

“You know the restaurant next door is decent, I can always get a table,” Diane tries changing the subject, the long day wearing on her. “That way there might be something to absorb all this.”

“Lost your tolerance?” Cat’s eyebrow raised is all the accusation it takes to quiet ideas of a meal. At this point, Diane suspects the jet is already on the tarmac, all fuelled up. Cat never does stay long in Chicago. “And no, she didn’t wait. I certainly never asked her to. She’s my employee, well, until you let me slip away gracefully.”

“Tell me that you’re not giving up your company, your home, Carter’s stability, over a crush that didn’t work out? Four divorces couldn’t so much as make you change direction on the street, but this puts your tail between your legs?”

“Of course not!” There’s that fire, that withering look that probably comes with a barbed comment about age and senility, but in pursuit of a favor Cat holds her tongue this once. “It’s different. She’s different. I came back ready to take a chance, only to find her moping over some unworthy manchild. What was I thinking?”

“Moping means he’s gone. Sounds like a window to me.”

“Speaking of disasters that make no sense, how’s your cowboy?”

Diane almost blushes at the mention of Kurt. They’re back in that honeymoon phase, the past hurts wiped off the slate and just the promise of something real being a thrill that Diane can’t quite seem to get over. 

“He’s around. Listen, I’ll have my juniors get on the trust, and I’ll finalize the paperwork. Anything special, let me know, but they won’t touch anything connected to Adam or Carter. Keeps things simple. Pretty much what I’d offer a Presidential candidate too, if you’re feeling the inclination.”

“Not much chance,” Cat scoffs. “If I want to run the world I’ll go back to CatCo.”

“I have one condition, and don’t even think about arguing with me.”

“Go on.”

“Before I put this in motion, before you fly out to DC and take up your post… tell her. Have one moment of weakness and lay your soul bare. It’s not easy, not for people like us. But you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“Diane--”

“That’s my price. Take it or leave it. Now, I have to eat, so decide by the time we hit the street and come to dinner if you want to talk specifics.”

“I have--”

“A plane waiting. I expected as much.” Diane lays a few bills on the bar to cover them both. She has her pride, and letting Cat pay has never been an option. “Take the detour, Catherine. Give this Keira a chance to know what she’s missing.”

“Kara,” Cat corrects, standing and looking a little unsteady. “Her name is Kara.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Diane knows she’ll be dining alone, already changing the plans to takeout and calling Kurt to say come over early. She steps in closer, bids Cat goodbye with their customary air kisses to the cheek, only to be startled when she’s pulled into a real hug. 

“Thank you,” Cat mutters. “For trying to make me happy. You were always good at that.”

Diane tries not to think too much about twenty-two year old Cat, home from Radcliffe for the summer all questions and bare legs to distract her father’s brightest junior associate. Late nights with appalling cheap wine and driving that beat up convertible to anywhere they could lay out under the stars. A cheap summer romance with no shelf life, but a friendship, a mentorship that’s lasted all these years since. The better end of the bargain, and Diane knows it. 

If Cat has found her own version of that, she should have it. Step into the role Diane once occupied, see the world from both sides as only Cat cares enough to do. They have Diane’s blessing, for what it’s worth. 

“Be safe,” Diane commands, taking her leave. She knows if she looks back she’ll see Cat rearranging that forlorn expression into something battle-ready. That’s more than reassurance enough. Hailing a taxi, she fires off an email to Marissa about getting a trust team together in the morning, just in case. 

On the short trip home, Diane finds herself genuinely hoping that the trust won’t be needed. 


End file.
